Tween Pavement and Stars
by wildblues
Summary: Some nights he waited, hoping to see what he knew he probably wouldn’t for some time. The outline of a person, umbrella and carpetbag in hand, descending from the black, sooty London heavens like a goddess in a daisy covered hat. [Bert x Mary]


Between two puffing chimneystacks, high above the cobblestone streets of London he perched; charcoal in hand and sketchpad upon knee, brooms resting against his leg, forgotten. With quick angled strokes, he constructed the steeply sloping rooftops, accents suggesting shingles and bricks. A couple more scribbles upon the page and the chimneystacks sprung forth from the off-white paper. A rub of the side of the charcoal piece across the page created the darkened London skies, blackened with sooty fumes, stars peering through the gaps in the smoke like shimmering pennies at the bottom of a well, vaguely suggested but not fully seen, shimmering dots of light in the darkness.

Holding the sketchpad in his hand, he looked down upon all that he had created a moment, the image of the London skyline; the chimneysweep's world. Relatively dissatisfied in whole, he then ripped it into four quarters and dropped it down one of the smoking chimneystacks. A smug grin across his sooty features, he placed the sketchpad and charcoal piece aside, leaning back against the chimney and turning his gaze to the starry sky.

Some nights he waited, eyes sweeping across the stars, hoping to see what he knew he probably wouldn't for some time; the outline of a person, umbrella and carpetbag in hand, descending from the black, sooty London heavens like a goddess in a daisy-covered hat. His eyes swept the skies every evening, any single movement in the clouds sending his heart crashing into the back of his throat before dropping violently to the pit of his stomach when the movement was revealed to be a bird swooping in from the East.

This night, he gazed wistfully to the sky, obscured by clouds, and he vaguely wondered which of those clouds she was perched upon right now. At this moment, was she looking down, wondering which rooftop he was sitting on? Probably not, he mused, Mary Poppins didn't wonder about anything; she _knew_. Mary Poppins knew everything there was to know about anything, and yet nobody knew anything about her. Strange, he thought, the way the Universe jokes like that sometimes – but perhaps it was Mary Poppins' joke on the Universe. One never could tell when it came to Mary Poppins and he liked that.

A few moments more before he tore his contemplative gaze from the sky and brought himself to stand. He stretched, patted some of the ash off his pantlegs, and bent to pick up his brooms when a strong gust of wind whipped in from the East. Its icy fingers tore at his scarf and jacket and ripped his hat from atop his head, carrying it a few feet before the wind stopped suddenly, as if it had been silenced by some divine force. He stepped forward to retrieve his hat, when he heard the _click click_ of heels upon the roof behind him; someone passed him quickly and the hat was gone, snatched from the roof in one swooping motion. That person held the hat out to him, making a disapproving sound and tapping their foot in impatience.

"Bert, you really must hang on to your hat on evenings like this," came a stern voice, laced with an undertone of compassion that only he heard, "You could catch a death of cold should you lose it."

His breath caught in his throat and he wanted to rush over and take that person up in his embrace, sooty clothing be damned. He didn't, because that sort of thing wasn't something she approved of, he knew.

"Mary Poppins," he said instead, taking the hat from her, offering a grin in return before placing it back atop his head, "Jus' the person I was thinking of!"

"Of me?_Really_, Bert," Mary Poppins said, sniffing as she did when she didn't believe something.

"O' Course! You wouldn't be here if I hadn't thought of you. That's how it goes, don't it?"

She straightened her pristine white gloves. "Not exactly," was all she said, tucking her umbrella under her arm and walking briskly to where he had been sitting moments ago. Taking a seat herself, she placed her umbrella next to his brooms.

"Then why?" he asked her, despite the knowledge that he would receive no answer. Mary Poppins never answered a question, she never offered explanation, one was to merely accept what they knew and move on, for they would receive no further information from her and he liked that.

"Really, Bert, let us not get hung up on such trivialities. I am here, aren't I?"

"That you are, and I wouldn't have it any other way," he said, taking a step to where she was sitting and plopping down beside her, a very thin cloud of soot flowing from his jacket as he did so. He apologized, laughing. "Sorry 'bout that, I just got off workin' round this old man's chimney. Right sour man 'e was, but 'e paid me well enough. How's the nanny business goin' lately? What kind of little ones are you lookin' after right now?'

"I'm currently between jobs, as it were," she said, toying absently with one of the fingers of her glove, "My last was quite a handful, really. But what's done is done."

"One child a _handful_ for _Mary Poppins_?" Bert said, his crooked smile surfacing again, "That one's hard to believe, methinks."

"It was three, actually. Dreadful little creatures, but I think I set them right," she said simply, and he knew there were no more words after that, so he merely made an acknowledging sound in his throat and looked on. The silence hung between them for some time, as they sat and watched the chimney smoke billowing, curling, and twisting in the air towards the heavens, thick and black. Several times he glanced at her when she wasn't looking, but he knew that she wasn't oblivious to it. Nothing got past her and he liked that.

"So," he said finally, "I haven't seen you about on Your Days much, have you forgotten me, now?" He said it jokingly, but he knew that she would know how he had really meant it. She said nothing, but turned to him, icy blue eyes piercing him so that he could not breathe.

"I've been rather busy as of late," she said, "As previously mentioned." A pause, she sighed, "I do apologize, however."

"Oh, no need for apologies and what have you, Mary. It happens sometimes. Why, just this week I've been the busiest, everyone wants a chimney swept before the cold sets in. Can't say me art's been that great, though, not many come to the park these afternoons; too cold and windy, they tell me."

"That really is bad luck," she said, standing up and brushing off her skirts, "I suppose we'll both be needing a little more of it, now, won't we?"

He stood too, "Of what?"

"Luck, of course."

His face broke out into a wide, crooked grin, "Right you are, Mary Poppins! And I've got just the thing."

He grasped her gloved hand within his own and shook it gently, "Luck o' the chimney sweep for you. In fact…" he took hold of her other hand with his free one and shook it as well, at the same time, "Both hands to double it!"

She smiled, shaking his hands in turn, "You're so kind, Bert." He let go of her hands and she looked down at her white gloves, now stained with black sooty smudges, and laughed lightly.

"Oh dear, sorry about that!" Bert said, frowning slightly, "Here, let me get that." He again took one of her hands and tried wiping the soot from her glove with his thumb, but only succeeded in smudging it further across the surface, rubbing it deeper into the fabric. "S-Sorry!" he apologized again when he realized what he had done.

She smiled a genuine, amused smile that turned up in both corners and left a twinkle in her eye, "Don't worry about it, Bert. They'll wash."

He gazed at her, smiling himself, and temporarily forgot that he was still holding her hand. When he realized it, he let go, slowly and let his hand drop again to his side. He barely registered that she had moved to where her umbrella was resting next to his brooms. She was picking it up when he snapped back to reality.

"You're leaving?"

"Well, yes, I'm afraid. It's getting to be rather late, and a proper gentleman such as you wouldn't want to keep a lady out this late. Especially on the rooftops," she said. He checked his pocket watch, she was indeed correct, as she always was and he liked that.

"Ah, right you are! Golly, time flies!" he placed the watch back in his sooty pocket, "I suppose I'll be seeing you next Tuesday then? In the park?"

"I will be there if you will," she smiled warmly as she often did around him, and he liked that.

Mary Poppins opened her umbrella and looked to the sky a moment, pointing the umbrella to the air gracefully. She looked as if she would take off, but didn't. She stopped as if she had suddenly remembered something, "Oh, Bert." She opened her carpet bag and dug around in it for a couple of moments. "Where is it?" she said, reaching further into the bag, as he looked on.

"Ah, here you are!" she cried triumphantly, and pulled a piece of paper out of the bag. The paper looked as if it was been pieced together out of four pieces and were somehow fused together again without the aid of glue. She handed it to him, and he stared, flabbergasted. It was his drawing.

"Artwork like that shouldn't be dropped into a chimneystack," she said, a faint knowing smile tugging at her lips, "Besides, it's inconsiderate to the owner of the chimney, littering their fireplaces with papers."

He didn't say anything, but nodded. "I'll keep that in mind, Mary Poppins, thank yeh."

She nodded once and again raised the umbrella to the heavens, and in a moment she was gone, disappearing amongst the black clouds and faintly shimmering stars from whence she had come. Bert went to pick up his brooms, sketchpad and charcoals, tucking the drawing into the pages of the sketchpad where it would be safe. He slung the brooms over his shoulder and skipped to the edge of the roof where he climbed down awkwardly.

Mary Poppins had a peculiar effect on him, he had long ago noticed. There were times when he was intimidated by her, for she sometimes had that effect upon people. There were also times when he was so absolutely smitten with her that he couldn't breathe. Regardless, whenever he met her and she disappeared soon after for whatever reason she had at the time, he felt an overwhelming feeling of joy that left him whistling and skipping along the cobblestone streets.

And he liked that very much indeed.


End file.
